


Reaching Out

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [201]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eating Disorder, Gen, Hospital, Stanford Era, asking for help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: Sam has to admit his issues with food are getting a bit out of control.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is another piece from Tumblr.
> 
> Warnings for: eating disorder.

Sam passes out in biology.

It wasn’t even a lab, so he can’t claim that he was simply so grossed out that he couldn’t take it. The lecture had been on photosynthesis, for gods’ sakes. There’s really no way to obscure this one.

So they bring him to the hospital. He can’t talk his way out, and sure, he’s an adult, he could refuse treatment, but his TA is standing next to him, looking worried, and if Sam makes a fuss, it’ll just create a bigger mess. Better to quietly submit to their prodding, and call it a day.

They take blood. It’s actually been a while since Sam’s seen his own blood, outside of a shaving nick, and he can’t stop staring. Then they bring him to a hospital room, and leave him there.

He could bail. His TA isn’t here anymore, no one would know. He has every right to bail, he could–

If only he had the strength. It’s been getting harder, lately, and he’s not sure he can make it down the hall at the pace he would need to make it out.

“Sam Winchester?”

Sam flinches. He didn’t even hear the door open, so caught up in his thoughts. “Yeah,” he rasps.

The nurse wants to talk about his blood work. Wants to talk about how messed up it is, how bad off the inside of his body looks. She brings charts.

Sam stares at then and swallows, throat so bone dry that the act hurts a bit. “Oh,” he says, unable to take his eyes away.

That’s his _body_. His body. Inside of him, what’s going on inside. That’s what he’s done, what he’s been doing, ever since he was sixteen–

He swallows again, completely ignoring the pain. _Fuck_.

The nurse gives him a bit of a smile. He feels like a scolded puppy. “So you see, while your studies are important, it is really important you take breaks for food, Sam. I understand midterms are coming up, but balanced, regular, nutritional meals actually can help us think better. You need the food, Sam.”

He _knows_ , he just wishes the rest of him would get on board.

She seems to be done with her spiel, and turns to put her charts away. Sam manages to unstick his throat, then asks the question he thought he never would say out loud.

“What happens–if you–can’t?” he manages to say. 

She turns back to him. “Have you been sick, Sam?” she asks.

Sam shakes his head. Yes, he has. But not like she’s thinking. He doesn’t have the flu. He has three years, on and off–more on than off, lately–feeling like shit, because his body needs something he can’t give it any more. Physically can’t give it, because it might need food, but he needs not to give it that, _needs_  it with every ounce of his being. Every calorie that goes in is counted, every piece of food denied makes it easier to deny the next. Control.

She seems to get it, and Sam wonders how often she sees this. “Do you wanna talk, Sam?” she asks.

 _No._  He doesn’t. That’s the last thing he wants, actually. Winchesters don’t talk about their problems. They certainly don’t have problems most often associated with pre-teen girls. They suck it up, keep it quiet, move on, if they’re weak enough to have the problem in the first place. They don’t blab their dirty laundry.

Sam thinks of those charts. Thinks of his own blood works. Thinks _you are literally killing yourself_.

“Yes.”


End file.
